


The Lewis Pamphlet

by dasedandconfuzed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, F/F, F/M, Past Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8415418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasedandconfuzed/pseuds/dasedandconfuzed
Summary: Eliza Schuyler Hamilton didn't know what to expect when she sought out Maria Reynolds.





	1. I Don't Know Where to Go

**** Angelica had found the letter, had slipped it into her hands, and told her that she had visited Maria Reynolds the other day. She said this at normal volume, the morning sun igniting her hair into a halo–she glowed. Eliza allowed herself a moment–just a moment–to despair that even as the nation tore itself apart over the proof of Alexander's infidelity that the proof had always been there, standing right beside him, his Deare–. 

The moment passed and Eliza breathed deeply. Angelica was Alexander's sister and her own. So what if Alexander felt that his sister should take all the parts that he wouldn't allow his wife? Angelica held all the parts that Eliza refused her husband. 

"Was she well?" Eliza asked. 

Angelica reclined into her seat and sighed, "As well as a woman in her situation can be." At this she had angled her voice towards the hallway. Alexander heard, Eliza was sure, but he made no move. 

Angelica looked back to her sister, "Read the letter." 

Eliza said nothing, turning the letter again and again. It was old and the stationary was thin, nothing like the heavy cream that Angelica was wont to use. She didn't want to read the letter. She knew enough. Alexander had kept this letter for years.

Seeing her sister's face, Angelica reached out to grasp her hand. "Go into the city today. I'll take care of the children."

Eliza looked up, startled by the tears that blurred her sister's image, and fled the room. 

It seemed that she no longer wanted Angelica to have her tears.

 

–

 

Eliza looked towards the water, the letter tucked away into her dress. The dock was alive with chatter and work. It had always been lively, even when she was little more than a child, clinging to Angelica, happy for a moment's relief from lessons. And then when she was older, clinging to Angelica as Peggy clung to her, happy to catch a grin, to turn a head, to bask in the wild possibility that one of these men would be her husband.

_And you married a man not much better_ , her mind whispered. _Alexander had nothing before you_. 

"He had a brain," she whispered to no one. "And eyes..." 

Who else had eyes like Alexander? They were incredible. She was his with one passing glance. His before his mind could appreciate her name, before it could appreciate Angelica's turn of phrase. 

Obliquely, she wondered if any of the men on the dock were talking about her, about Alexander. 

She glanced back into the crowd and a young man caught her eye, whistling as he doffed his hat. "Milady," she could imagine him mouthing. Eliza smiled. To these men she was nothing more than a rich woman with too much free time. After a moment, she turned back to the sea, reaching into her dress for the letter. 

 

_Col. Hamilton_

_Dear Sir_

_I have not tim to tell you the cause of my present troubles only that Mr. has rote you this morning and I know not wether you have got the letter or not and he had swore that If you do not answer It or If he dose not se or hear from you to day he will write Mrs. Hamilton he has just Gone oute and I am a Lone I think you had better come here one moment that you May know the Cause then you will the better know how to act Oh my God I feel more for you than myself and wish I had never been born to give you so mutch unhappisness do not rite to him no not a Line but come here soon do not send or leave any thing in his power._

_Maria_

 

In truth, Eliza had seen this letter's likeness before. The first page of Alexander's magnus opum, but she had skimmed it, flipping through the papers– _so many of them, damn you, you didn't even need to write one_ –searching for something she couldn't put voice to. Alexander was brilliant with words, was it silly that Eliza spent hours searching for the words that could placate her?

But reading the thing, touching the thing. 

_I feel more for you than myself and wish I had never been born to give you so mutch unhappisness_... 

There were no tears on the actual paper, no rips. But it had been folded and refolded countless times that Eliza feared it would crumble in her hands. Already, she could see Alexander poring over it, opening and closing, reading Maria's desperation. 

Eliza wondered if he felt powerful, that a woman thought him so far above her. But no, save for one or two, Alexander considered no one his superior, much less his equal. Did he feel guilty that he wrought this on her? Angry that they were discovered? Did he feel nothing but panic? Think nothing but _I must save this, for my records..._

Eliza stopped herself from that thought. It didn't matter what Alexander thought. Eliza now held this letter and she could feel nothing but an aching emptines. Here was a woman so eager for escape that she turned to Alexander to help her. 

_He helped himself before he helped her_ , her mind whispered.  _And then she wished herself dead to save him_ _._

Then the voice shifted till it was deeper, musical in its brilliance.

_Your Excellency_ , she imagined Alexander saying, _In defense of my honor I present to you: A Woman in Despair._   _How could I say no to this?_

Hysterical laughter bubbled in Eliza's throat as her eyes began to sting with tears. What a picture she made for those workers. 

She glanced back at the letter, looking to read it till memorization, but instead she returned to those words.

_I am alone._

 

–

 

When she returned home the sun had begun its long descent. 

The house was silent, Angelica and the children vacated to–Eliza presumed–the townhouse that John Church gave his wife after one too many cross-Atlantic excursions. These days Alexander made little noise, retreating into himself. He was so silent now that Eliza couldn't guess if he was in the house. But she didn't care where Alexander was, so long as he didn't retire to her bed. 

Wanting to bask in the silence, Eliza tiptoed to the kitchen, realizing she hadn't eaten all day. She paused when she spotted a candle that had been left burning on the kitchen table, its light casting a long shadow over a piece of parchment. Hurriedly, Eliza picked up the letter, recognizing the handwriting.

It may have been the shortest of Alexander's letters: a single address.


	2. I Came Here All Alone

To her credit, her hands didn't tremble as she read the address three times more. Confident that it was committed to memory, she offered it to the flame. Impulsivity or habit, Eliza couldn't name what compelled her to destroy it, but she grabbed at the little comfort of seeing Alexander's ceasefire shrivel and crumble to nothing. 

 

Before she could truly think about it, Eliza threw on a thick cloak and drew the hood close to shade her eyes. The sun was setting fast, but the waning light would see her to Maria's doorstep.

 

~

 

Had Eliza been less brave, she would have pulled her cloak tighter, and knocked on Maria Reynolds' door more frantically. As she chased the dying light to Maria's doorstep, she noticed the gradual decay of her environs. The neighborhood she found herself in was dirty and its habitants beleaguered, without noise to grant it an illusion of liveliness. 

 

_It was a mistake to come here like this_ , Eliza thought at the first old man to entreat her for alms. Nevertheless, she had reached into a purse and deposited a coin into his hand, quick to hurry away before the young mother and child across the street made much notice of her. 

 

Eliza Schuyler Hamilton, with her richly embroidered cloak and well-fed frame looked too rich for the area. _The city will know by sunup I was here._ The thought followed her to Maria's door and lingered as she waited for its inhabitant to welcome her.

 

Several moments passed and Eliza knocked again. _Did she see me through the window? Is she waiting for me to leave?_ Eliza had never taken her husband to be so enamored with cowardice, but the sun had long set and there was no godly reason to not be safely ensconced at home.

 

"Excuse me, madame," a voice breathed behind her.

 

Startled, Eliza whirled around. She blinked against the sudden light of the voice's lantern, but the figure– _a woman_ –pulled back. 

 

When Eliza made no motion to move, the woman edged around her, the fabric of her dress brushing against Eliza's side as she jostled her doorknob. 

 

_Wait she's–_ "Maria Reynolds?" Eliza asked.

 

Maria had already pushed the door open and stepped into the home, but she turned to Eliza. "Yes?"

 

Regardless of the soft, almost musical quality of the word, Maria's white knuckled grip on her lantern betrayed her. _She's nervous_. A pang of sympathy hit Eliza. Maria stood slightly shorter than her, trembling from the night chill. She wore a too-loose dress that gaped open to reveal sharp collarbones and had tied back wildly curling hair.  She didn't look how Alexander described her, she just looked underfed. 

 

"My name is Eliza Hamilton," Eliza whispered. Maria quirked an eyebrow, emboldened, Eliza gestured towards the inside, "May I?"

 

"If it pleases you."

 

Wordlessly, Eliza followed the younger woman into a kitchen. Maria gestured to a chair and Eliza sat. She drew her hood off and folded her hands over  her dress, feeling Maria's gaze to slide over her. _Let her look at me_ , Eliza thought. 

 

Maria sighed, placed the lantern on the table, and took the seat across Eliza. The light flickered over Maria's face becomingly–the flame's reflection glittered in her dark eyes and shadowed her full lips. She was actually quite beautiful. 

 

"I should inform you," Maria finally spoke, "should you come search for me again, that my colleagues and neighbors know me as Maria Clement." 

 

"Clement. Your maiden name?"

 

Maria let out a bark of laughter, her thin shoulders lifting with the movement. "No," she replied. "You forget. It was printed in that pamphlet–my maiden name is Lewis."

 

"And Clement?"

 

Maria shrugged. "Made up. I know no one by that name, so no one will protest to my borrowing..." She then fell silent, her gaze turning away from Eliza.

 

Perhaps the silence was meant to convey apathy, but Eliza had grown up observing New York's upper-class smile, simper, and lie. Her own sister was both prodigious and well-practiced in the art; Maria paled in comparison. She may as well have started crying in the fleeting moment where her eyes turned liquid.

 

But then the veneer of apathy disappeared and Eliza found herself subject to a hard, cold stare. "I must warn you," Maria said carefully, "I will scream if you hit me."

 

Eliza gritted her teeth. _Did you tell her anything of me, Alexander?_ "I'm not here to hit you."

 

"To scream at me?"

 

"No."

 

Maria then stood to look down at Eliza, a long strand of her hair falling out of its bun, brushing her dress' hemline. Dimly, Eliza wondered if she arranged the tableau–if she was as aware, as Alexander implied, of the persuasion that lay in her face. But then Maria turned, walking towards a cabinet to explore its contents. _I would have left had she done nothing_ , Eliza thought. _Or begun speaking_. Eliza didn't know which result would be more disastrous.

 

"An inquisition, then," Maria decided. She then returned to the table, setting down two cups and a large bottle of vodka. She ignored Eliza's stare and began pouring. "We'll both need this."

 

Eliza looked at the offering and then to Maria, "Thank you, but I don't drink."

 

Maria picked up her glass. "Even now, your husband doesn't drive you to drink," she smiled wryly, "I'll drink to that." She then swallowed down half the cup's contents. 

 

_You've lost control_ , Angelica's voice whispered. 

 

_I never expected it_. "An inquisition?" Eliza said, "What do you mean?"

 

Maria smiled again. "You're here to find out. Was I helpless? Was I in league with my ex-husband?" 

 

_Ex?_ "No–" 

 

"So you know all the facts then?" 

 

Eliza, who had spent the better part of her life weary of the verbal traps Angelica could lay, replied, "No, I don't." The wood of her chair screeched as she stood. "But my husband ruined both our lives when he wrote his pamphlet."

 

Maria went still and her smile vanished. An awful silence descended on the room, allowing too much of Eliza's thoughts to echo in her mind. _That was wrong_... _wrong... wrong..._

 

" _Both_ our lives?" Maria then said. 

 

"My family was ruined when he published that," Eliza said fiercely. She knew that in these moments it was better to slow down, to breath, to think, but for so long her silence was her fury. " _I_ was ruined. I lived for him when he went to war and I lived for him when he came back and decided to war against every politician that defied him."

 

Eliza paused to draw breath. A part of her knew she was wrong, knew how insignificant this was to Maria. The woman across from her had suffered beatings from her husband, had been publicly smeared as a jezebel, but Eliza needed to put a voice to the yawning emptiness that was her heart. 

 

Maria looked unfazed and Eliza was keenly aware of tears threatening to spill. She forced more cold air into her lungs, but in that single moment could feel the entirety of her marriage flash before her eyes. She screwed them shut, but the images didn't disappear, instead they settled on one: Philip, rapping for his father, and her–

 

"I was so happy to have a moment with him. Moments. I'd live in them and think this would be enough." 

 

The words were heavy with a grief Eliza didn't realize existed.

 

Maria regarded her coolly, then spoke, "Yes, please continue about your hurt feelings."

 

Eliza blinked incredulous eyes at her, but Maria moved closer. "Anything else about your broken heart? Have you exhausted that?" Maria stepped forward again."How did it feel when you married him?" 

 

Maria was so close now, Eliza could feel her heavy breath against her cheek, could feel the other woman's disgust,"No, I remember. You married him for love. And he married you for money."

 

Fury boiled in Eliza's chest and she drew back, "You have no right!"

 

"No," Maria breathed out, "I stayed quiet for you, so you listen to me. When I married James, I looked at him and thought, 'If my siblings eat my portion of food, maybe _that'll be enough_.'" 

 

Maria took a moment, her gaze fixed to the hallway, "And when he started hitting me, I thought 'I have food, that'll be enough.' And when he kept hitting me, I thought, 'If he doesn't hit my daughter, that'll be enough.'" 

 

Eliza stayed silent, warring against every instinct to draw Maria into her arms.

 

"But we weren't enough for my husband," Maria stopped, turning back to watch Eliza's face, "Your husband's money wasn't enough. But I got out with my daughter. I remade myself. I had lived through the worst, my new life would be better. And then your husband published that pamphlet."

 

Eliza could see a sharp calculation in Maria's eyes as she laid out her next words. 

 

"I've lived with a ruined life since I was born, so don't speak to me of your own ruin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Eliza discovers just how self-centered Alexander is.


End file.
